Nobody Was Home
by een nihc
Summary: A heart is like a mansion with thousands of rooms. Some doors remain locked and sealed – doors that you do not wish to open again, rooms that you never wish to enter again. No one understands this better than Kakashi.


Standard disclaimer : I do not own Naruto.

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Nobody Was Home

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A heart is like a mansion with thousands of rooms. Some doors remain locked and sealed – doors that you do not wish to open again, rooms that you never wish to enter again. No one understands this better than Kakashi.

It had been raining heavily that evening. A seven-year-old Kakashi was stranded in the Academy, waiting for the rain to cease. He hadn't brought any umbrella or raincoat. He waited, but no one came to pick him up. It's okay, he told himself. He was a big boy. Besides, father had said he would be waiting for him at home and father had been smiling when he had said that.

Father had smiled. He hadn't seen his father smiled for so long – not since he had come home from that mission. People died, he had heard. And it was father's fault, they had said. Not true, he refused to believe them. Father never said anything but father had never smiled again.

It was so quiet. All the other children had gone home by the time the rain had finally reduced to drizzle. Father still hadn't come. Kakashi didn't wait for the rain to stop completely; he walked home alone in the drizzle.

He walked at first, leaving a trail of small sandal prints on the muddy road behind him. Then the walk turned into a jog, the jog soon turned into a run. He didn't want to wait any longer. He wanted to be at home with his father at that precise moment.

_Run, Kakashi, run!_

Father was calling him from afar.

_That's my boy._

He wanted to hear father say it again.

And so he ran. He ran as fast as his small feet could carry him. He wished he had wings on his heels so that he could fly instead. He ignored those inky puddles that splashed over his sandals, ignored the slippery mud that kept making him trip on the road – he picked himself up almost as quickly as he fell and then he ran again. The road seemed never-ending and the fear in him grew with each passing second.

When he finally reached home, he was covered in mud and bruises. He remembered he had forgotten his keys on his way to the Academy but father said he would be home that day. So he hadn't bothered to head back and get his keys. The door was locked. No lights spilled under the door rim as if nobody was home. He pounded his fist frantically at the door and called out to his father, "Father! It's me. Open the door, let me in!" his panic peaked as no one answered the door for a full five minutes.

_Father said he would be home. He said he wouldn't be going any where. He said he would wait for me for dinner._ Kakashi kept repeating to himself.

Kakashi kicked the door with all his might but he wasn't strong enough to kick it open. Next he tried the windows. They were locked too. The curtain was pulled and he couldn't see what was happening inside. At last he broke the glass with his kunai and crawled inside.

_Father!_ He searched in every room. The last room he searched was the living room. He suddenly felt very cold. The coppery tang of blood was thick in the air, choking him. With trembling hands, he reach for the light switch and turned on the lights.

Kakashi could see blood, lots of blood pooling behind the sofa. His instinct told him to turn around and flee. But his body did the opposite – as if it wasn't his. He walked closer and closer. Then he stopped.

He saw what was inevitable-his father lying on the pool of blood lifelessly with a blood stained sword besides him. A paper was placed on the end table near his father's body. Kakashi recognized his father's calligraphy at once.

It wrote:

Into darkness,I walk alone,

Wash not my blood,

For it is forever tainted.

A jinseii no ku. His sensei told had him later. He wasn't supposed to understand anything but he did. And he didn't cry. He simply locked the door and threw away the keys. He had never looked back since.

Many, many years later,Kakashi went back to that house. He stomped through the bushes along where a path from long ago lay. The door hung on its rusty hinges loosely. He didn't even need to break a sweat to break in. He could see the particles of dust flying in the air, disturbed by the sudden wind that rushed in. Kakashi considered wearing his mask as a blessing especially at times like this where other people would have to find a cloth to cover their nose.

Nothing was left save for the memories. Although the evidence of blood had been cleaned long ago,Kakashi always knew the exact spot where it had stained the floor. Kakashi stood where he had stood that night and let his memory suck him in.

Wash not my blood,

For it is forever tainted.

But Kakashi knew now that his father wasn't always right. He could have washed away his mistake too by continuing to live. That was what he had been doing throughout all these years. He kneeled down and wrote in the dusted floor with his finger:

Out of light,I come alone,

Regret not your sin,

For it is already forgiven.

The sun was shining outside. He left with the door open this time. It no longer needed to be shut because nobody was home.

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A/N: It had been so long since the last time I wrote about him, Kakashi. He is my most favourite character in Naruto.

Many thanks to my beta-reader, Isee.


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